Better Left Unsaid
by lNightWriterl
Summary: Dean finally killed Abbadon. So why aren't they celebrating? It could be the fact he doesn't want to let go of the blade.
1. Chapter 1

There were a few things in life that Dean Winchester was positive of at this moment in time.

One was that he wanted that damn First Blade in his hand. The second was that Samuel Winchester was a complete heartless bastard.

"Sam." He growled, his eyes on his prize as Sam pinned him to the wall, looking more worried than Dean had seen him in years.

"Knock it off." His brother snapped at him, but Dean barely spared him a glance, his whole being focused solely on the blade. His blade. "_Dean_." Sam hissed and the older Winchester hissed, trying to push the freaking giant off of him.

"_Let me go_!" he howled and even to his own ears, his voice sounded like some else's.

"Why? So you can get another kick as you power up? Nice try." Sam told him and there was a click as Dean fought against the metal cuff around his left hand. Normally, this wouldn't pose as much of a problem considering he could just pick it. Unfortunately, his mind wasn't thinking so clearly and he opted for just trying to rip it off.

"Let. Me. Go." Dean growled, an animal like sound coming from the back of his threat "You selfish, heartless, son of a bitch." He finished with a wave of hatred. Sam didn't reply at first, instead walking over to attempt to clean up the blood on Dean's wrist from him fighting against his restraints.

"I hate you." The older of the two told him flatly "I wish I had let you die. I wish I had let you die the first time and the time after that and the time after that. I wish I didn't have to bring you back. Why can't you just leave me _alone_?" he howled and Sam seemed to freeze for a fraction of a second. Through the fog, Dean knew it really hadn't gone over like that, but he didn't care.

"That was all it was about growing up, you know that? You. Always you. Watch out for Sam. Take care of Sam. Make sure Sam is okay. Go check on Sam. Sam, Sam, Sam. And I never gave a damn because I _adored_ you. I tried to shield you from just about everything. Then you were gone and you know what I realized? Nothing. I had nothing that actually defined me because I wasted my entire life on _you_. You think I wanted to be this? All the time?" he let out a cold laugh and a hint of satisfaction came when he felt Sam freeze, his hand shaking for a fraction of a second. Suddenly a hand was on his shoulder, pushing him back so that Sam could look him straight in the eye, searching to see if there was truth in his words.

"I hate you." He repeated with a chilly smile and Sam let him go, looking slightly dazed. Like everything he had ever known had just crashed down on him and caught on fire. "After everything I did for you, you let me fall. You drinking demon blood and starting the apocalypse? I never once left your side. I may have lost faith in you, but I stayed there and gave you a chance to earn it back. I screw up once and you disown me. You call _me_ selfish? Me? _Crowley_ is kinder to me than you are. He understands me better too. Better than you. Do you know how degrading that is? To have a demon tell you that you hate yourself more than anyone he has ever seen? Hmm, I wonder what drove me to _that_? I'm sure it wasn't my twisted father and perfect little brother. According to them, I can carry the whole God damn world on my shoulders." He smirked, his eyes falling back onto the blade. God, he _needed_ it.

"Shut _up_." Sam told him and Dean let his eyes drift back towards him. The blood had completely left his face and honestly, he looked as though he wanted to be sick.

"Sorry, am I getting to you?" Dean chuckled and Sam gave him a tortured look, but didn't respond. "Why don't you just kill me? That's what you want, isn't it?"

"No." Sam answered stubbornly, his face masking as he stood up again, wiping blood off of him.

"Then why am I here? You can't keep locked up forever."

"You'll come down from this." Sam said softly and Dean arched an eyebrow.

"Who said I'm on anything? Maybe this is just me being sick of you. Don't doubt what I say, I really hate you." He said calmly and there was a snap as Sam suddenly seemed to lose his edge and punch him in the face.

"I say." He hissed "I say that that _stupid_ blade is screwing with your head and this isn't you. Is isn't you because I _know you _better than any damn demon, so I swear to God, if you don't snap out of this…" He trailed off, leaving the threat to hang and for Dean to curse as he grasped his gushing nose with his free hand.

"Bitch." He hissed and something about that word seemed to cause almost physical pain to the younger. "You're just like him, you know that? Always hitting when things don't go your way."

Sam stared at him blankly, looking positively petrified at the last statement, but didn't say a word. They weren't ready to go there, not when Dean was like this. Sam certainly didn't want to know if he was referring to their father and if that statement held truth to it. If it did he didn't think he could live with the guilt and horror.

The next few hours were torture for both Winchesters. Dean screamed and kicked, glowering and fighting to get free, to obtain his blade. Sam solemnly restraining him as he ignored the cruel words of his broken brother being thrown at him like grenades.

"It is almost over."

"Sixteen hours." Sam whispered, looking up at the angel who had suddenly appeared "He killed Abbadon and… I almost let him go after Metatron and Godreel." He gave a wry laugh "Imagine If I had."

"It is almost out of his system." Cas promised, looking sternly at Dean from the other side of the room. He hadn't been happy when he learned of his friend's choice to bare the mark of Cain, he knew it could turn him into a demon, and a powerful one. Luckily, Sam seemed to have stopped him before he went on killing.

"He held it for maybe fifteen minutes." Sam said faintly "One person dead. Just one."

"It is a powerful blade Sam, more powerful than most items I have ever seen."

"He's going to want it back."

"We won't let him." Cas assured him calmly "I will somehow have it destroyed if that is what it takes."

Sam nodded weakly, looking over at his brother tiredly. Dean had stopped fighting now, slowly sinking into the ground with exhaustion marring his face, simply claiming his hatred whenever he had Sam's attention now through weak gasps of breath.

Walking over to him, Sam wiped more blood from his wrists, bandaging once more with a sigh.

"Will you stop ripping these off? You're going to cut a vein or something." He murmured and Dean glowered at him.

"Get away from me." He snapped "Maybe if you're lucky I'll die from blood loss."

Sam didn't respond, putting the already red towel to the side as he checked his brother for further injuries he may have inflicted on himself.

"I hate you." He snarled again and Sam narrowed his eyes, mashing his teeth together at how that still stung, no matter how many times the bastard said it.

"Yeah? Well I love you, so tough." He grumbled, feeling incredibly childish. No doubt if Dean was in his right mind he would have gagged and called him a girl. They usually didn't say those words out loud. When Sam was little he could remember Dean saying it to him once or twice.

_"Dean, Jacob Wiley's parents tell him that they love him every day!"_

_"Oh yeah? Bet you I tell you more."_

_"Not uh!"_

_"Sure I do, let's see how many times you can count it."_

Sam hadn't realized until a couple days later, but Dean _did_ tell him more than anyone else did. Through the way he made him lunch, to how he stuck up for him and kept the bullies away from him. Almost everything he did was a love you. Dean had never needed to say it.

"Don't touch me." Dean replied instead and Sam backed away, sitting next to Cas warily as he stared at his brother's pulsing form.

"It will pass." Cas said again gently and Sam nodded, his lips pursed in pain.

One hour. Two. Three. Four.

How long did they have to wait?

Five. Six. Seven.

Would it _ever_ wear off?

Eight. Nine.

"Sammy?"

"Thank God." Sam breathed as he stumbled out of his seat and scrambled towards his brother. Dean looked tired and confused, his one hand limply by his side as the other hung from the metal cuff.

"Happened?" Dean mumbled and Sam clicked the cuff off, gently trying to rouse Dean enough to get him to a bed.

"Blade had you freak out a little." Sam told him softly, trying not to notice this was the first time in a long time he hadn't smelled alcohol on him.

"Did I hurt you?" Dean asked and Sam froze suddenly unsure of how to answer that. "Sammy?"

"I'm fine Dean… Just… You know I don't want you dead, right?" he asked and Dean gave him a sleepy look of confusion.

"Uh…Yeah Sam. I know."

"And that I didn't mean a lot of those things I've been saying?"

"Okay."

"And that I really am grateful for what you do for me? Well, not all the time, but-"

"Jesus Sammy." Dean frowned, struggling to stay awake "What happened? Are you alright?" he asked and Sam licked his lips, looking at his brother for a moment before easing him into the bed.

"We need to get rid of that blade." He said instead and Dean looked alarm.

"Sam, what happened?" he asked again, but his eyes were already closing. "Tell me later, okay? Promise?" he asked, but Sam didn't respond. He didn't know if he could promise that.

Some things were better left unsaid.


	2. Chapter 2

**Whoa...I really wasn't expecting you guys to actually like that last chapter. I was super excited by the response! I hadn't really planned on making it much longer than that, but I'll run with this and see how it goes (: **

* * *

"Sam, come on!" Dean groaned as he traced his fingers along the wooden table, trying to keep a hold of his temper. "I don't see what the big deal is."

There was a beat of silence as his brother bit his lip, looking worriedly at every place but Dean. It hadn't missed the older man's attention that something was off with him. Ever since he had killed Abbadon he had gone strangely…Withdrawn. Not the stubborn anger Dean had learned to accept, but something else entirely.

"Dean, it isn't a good idea." He finally said and green eyes met one another with matching sets of determination.

"Why not? I go and I kill him. Takes maybe ten minutes tops." He shrugged, rubbing his arm thoughtfully. He had no idea where the First Blade went and for whatever reason, Sam wouldn't tell him and frankly, it pissed him off. Wasn't the thing technically his? Why was it being hidden from him?

"Seriously Dean, you do not need that damn blade to kill this thing!" Sam snapped, looking more and more paranoid as he spoke. Dean frowned, cocking his head in a sarcastic expression.

"Uh… Yeah. We really do. The only way to kill Cain is with the blade and he's asking me to off him. It isn't going to even be a fight, what is the big deal?" he demanded, his mind flickering back to the last time he had held the blade as killed Abbadon. He couldn't remember too much… The incredible surge of power, the raw euphoria that he could do- _be_- anything. Like he was God and everyone else was just a pawn in some faraway place.

"I don't like it." Sam finally spoke up again. Dean frowned, still not understanding. What had _happened_ last time? What had been so bad? Why wouldn't Sam tell him? It wasn't as though he was lying about the situation, he just adamantly refused to talk about it.

"Yeah, well. Too bad." Dean snapped, annoyed at how oblivious he was at the moment. "If you don't want to tell me what happened that night. Fine. But I'm going to use the blade and _do my job_. Now, where is it?"

Silence.

"Sam." He warned and again, there was no response. Running a tired hand over his face, Dean slammed the chair back, his fists clenched as he stormed out of the room. What _was_ this?

"Dean."

"Cas." Dean greeted flatly as he yanked out a book harshly from its place on a shelf.

"Leave the blade be." The angel soothed and within a second Dean had spun around, pushing him hard against the wall.

"_Why_!?" he yelled and Cas was already back on his feet, calmly brushing himself off.

"Look at yourself." He said harshly "Do you think this is healthy?"

"Healthy? What does that even _matter_? Cain asked me to kill him. I'm going to kill him. Why is this becoming such a big deal?"

"Kill him without the blade."

"That is the only way to do it!" Dean yelled back "For God's sake you two! What the Hell? This doesn't even involve you. If you really don't want to see me kill this guy, you don't have to come or anything. I'll come back afterwards."

"Yeah." Sam cut in coldly "After you slaughter a whole town of innocents too."

Dean could have sworn his heart stopped altogether. Slowly, he turned towards his brother, eyes wide in something akin to horror as his stomach twisted into a sickening knot. Had that been what happened last time? He had…Killed people?

"What do you mean?" He asked quietly and Sam's expression immediately switched from angry to guilty, him shaking his head with a realization of what image he had just created for his brother.

"No, Dean. You didn't kill anyone." Sam said quickly "Seriously, you didn't."

"Then why would you think that?"

"I-"

"Is that why you haven't told me anything?"

"Dean, I promise that you did not-"

"Damn it! _What did I do_!?" Dean demanded, hitting the wall in frustration. He felt sick. Did he hurt someone? God, what if he killed someone? An innocent little kid or college nerd like Kevin had been… Dean didn't know if he could stand having more of that kind of blood on his hands.

"You did not hurt anyone." Sam told him forcefully. "You didn't. You killed Abbadon and you went into a rage. You didn't have control over yourself, alright? But I didn't let you hurt anyone." He spoke firmly and Dean stared, his eyes slipping to Sam's face to his arms and body.

The mark had helped him grow more powerful in ways even he didn't understand. The other day he had been sitting there with his cellphone in hand when he went to dial and the whole thing just snapped in half. Before that he discovered that his reflexes were quickened when he caught a single tack that fell off their wall when he was at least five feet away. His eyesight was sharpening, hearing honed, and taste more selective to only certain food groups.

It had all been like some kind of slow superhero movie, only Dean got the feeling he was going to end up more like the Joker than Batman. And it scared him. Badly.

"What about you?" He asked instead. When Dean had killed Abbadon, he hadn't been too far along in his changes, but if he had been holding the blade… Who knows what he could have done?

"I'm fine Dean." Sam promised, though there was a lack of sincerity that made Dean look harder over him to make sure there wasn't a bruise or mark he could have left on there.

"So come with me then." He finally said "I'll kill Cain and you can be there to make sure I don't hurt anyone." He said rationally and for whatever reason, Sam's eyes dimmed further.

"Dean… Can't Cain just…You know…Live?" He asked instead and Dean shook his head.

"I know this sounds weird, but Cain was actually the good guy. He just got screwed over. I'm going to do him this favor, alright? He deserves it."

"Dean-" Castiel started quietly from his spot in the room, but Sam cut him off, sounding monotone and defeated.

"No. He's right. I'll…I'll just have to go with him."

There was something not right here. Dean knew that, and God he wished Sam would tell him. He felt as though part of him didn't have that right though. Not after all the lying he had done recently. So instead he nodded and held out his hand for the blade.

"This is a bad idea." The angel muttered "It is very unwise, but if two insist… I will meet you at Cain's home and give you the blade then. Only then and after you finish, give it directly back to me, understood?" He asked and Dean frowned. Castiel hadn't been so…Stern sounding since they met.

"What-"

"Do you." Cas asked slowly and harshly "Understand?"

Swallowing, he nodded and tried not to think about all the underlying context as they were zapped away.

* * *

"Dean Winchester." Cain smiled, as if speaking to an old friend who he was pleased to see instead of his executioner. "You came."

"I promised." Dean told him with a weak grin in reply. "Uh, this is Sam." He introduced. Something that seemed rather pointless considering Cain was about to die.

They were standing in Cain's home, the older man leading them to sit down in the simply furnished room, the bee keep buzzing pleasantly in the background. The place was lit dimly with the fire crackling next to them and pictures of Cain's dead lover hung eerily throughout the room.

"Your brother." Cain nodded at Sam in assessment and Dean bit his lip, wondering if Sam would want him to correct that or not.

"Um, actually-" He started

"Yeah, brother." Sam interrupted and Dean gave him a confused look. Like he said before. Up is down and down is sideways with this guy. Sideways was probably diagonal too.

"I'm glad to see you alive." Cain told him pleasantly "It didn't surprise me to hear how the one worthy of my mark also had a sibling. I have to admit though, I fully expected Dean to kill you."

"Wait, what?" Dean asked, alarmed "Why would I kill him? Jeez, I didn't think our fights were that bad." He frowned and a glimmer of understanding seemed to pass over Sam's face, and that alone scared Dean more than he liked to admit. No one seemed to felt the need to explain any of this though, because Cain's eyes were fully engrossed with Sam now.

"We had a heart to heart." Sam told him quietly and Dean blinked. They did? When? Did he mean when Sam reamed him out about the whole angel thing? Dean didn't really consider that much of a touching conversation, but the way Sam said it... It was almost as if _he_ was at the receiving end of the emotional damage instead of Dean.

"I am the first man to kill another human Samuel Winchester. The Father of Murder. I made my decision to kill Abel, as hard as it was. It may disgust some, but I do not regret it. He's in Heaven now and I will be dead soon… But for a long time I was angry. Especially at Abel for forcing me to make such a decision. Anger and murder are tied quite closely, as are anger and lies. We often strike out with things that are not true to hurt others. It is simply what goes along with emotions." Cain spoke calmly, mixing together some tea as he lectured.

"What… What are guys talking about?" Dean interjected again and before anyone could answer Castiel appeared, holding the first blade loosely in hand. Dean's heart fluttered, momentarily forgetting about everything when he saw it. The power seemed to beckon him, vibrating inside of him. Licking his lips he tried to hone down his excitement. He was about to kill a good man. He should be solemn. He wondered how something like this could make him go savage. It seemed too... Perfect.

"The First Blade." Cain nodded when he saw Dean's face "Works like a container. I am calm now. So are you. This is partly because when the blade is near us it takes away all of our anger and hurt, which is what draws you and I to it. When you touch it, the emotions come back all at once. It is what gives us the strength and power to kill. Your body is shocked from it, you may not notice it really, but once the blade is taken away from you it takes a long time for the anger to leave you whole again."

"I wasn't angry at all when I first used it. At least I-" Dean stopped short, remembering Sam's words from earlier about how he went into a rage and how he mentioned a heart to heart… Oh no… Sam hadn't meant... Dean didn't...

Slowly, he turned to his brother, searching his face. Sam seemed completely stoic though, not even meeting his eyes. Instead the younger just seemed to focus on Cain with a mixture of resentment and pity. Dean recognized the feeling.

"Kill me first." Cain told him gently "Then you may never have to use it again." He added simply before looking down "Just remember what I said about the burden you'll have to bear."

Taking what was left of that courage, Dean grabbed the blade.

* * *

Sam was pretty sure this was how karma worked. All the bad things he had ever done in his life was now being repaid for as he and Castiel wrestled a screaming Dean into a chair, desperately trying to chain him down. If it wasn't for what was left of the angel's powers they would have been helplessly overpowered. Dean had grown stronger and much more dangerous over the course of the weeks. Sam tried to keep his hands on his brother's wrists as they clawed at him, drawing blood at a series of scratches all over him.

"I'll kill you!" He yelled, his hatred saturating every word. "I swear you selfish-" Whatever more he was going to say was quieted as Sam helplessly stuffed some cloth in his mouth, shutting him up.

"Damn Cain." He sighed as he helped Cas catch his breath. "Had to have a death wish, didn't he?"

"Dean's getting much more powerful." Cas muttered instead. "I don't know if we can keep this up."

"He'll cool down." Sam mumbled back, his muscles aching at the exertion of what he just had to do. Castiel stared at the wall for a moment, his eyes deep and sad.

"I won't kill him." He said quietly and Sam gave a startled look. "The others. That is what they will want Sam. Dean is becoming dangerous quickly and when he converts-"

"Converts?" Sam interrupted. "What Hell does that mean?"

Before Castiel could respond, there was a loud bang from the area they had just left Dean in, and Sam felt his eyes widened.

"Dean?" He called out, rushing back to where they were only to hear silence in return. "Dean!"

"Stand back." Cas muttered and with a flick of his wrist the doors busted open, revealing an empty seat where Sam's brother had been chained to a moment ago. "Damn." The angel grumbled and Sam peered over, seeing blood smeared across the walls and ground, the chains somehow bent out of shape. Iron. They had been made of iron. How did he get out of _iron_?

"Dean!" Sam called out again, pulling his knife out. He didn't like the idea of potentially stabbing his brother, but feeling the aftermath of his last bout with Dean, knew it would be stupid not to defend himself.

"Where. Is. It?" A voice suddenly hissed, sounding not at all like Dean. Turning, Sam felt his eyes widened at the sight before him. The thing in front of him was covered in blood, gashes covering his arms, neck, and face. Red liquid was drenching the front of shirt as if he lost an epic battle with a huge, metal comb. The mark of Cain was glowing brighter than ever, as if it somehow knew the only other person that bore it was dead.

"Where's what?" Sam asked, though they all knew what he wanted. It had been a serious fight to get the damn blade away from him. Three civilians had died in the process. It was something Sam wasn't sure he was ever going to tell Dean, but scared the holy Hell out of him.

"Give it to me." Dean said instead, his breathing hitching "Now."

"You don't need it. Come on Dean, snap out of it." He said cautiously and part of him braced himself for the verbal attack, but it never came. Instead he was simply stared at, Dean's eyes looking just as blank as they did when he died. They roamed over Sam, seemingly recognizing who he was, but made no comment to it as he smeared the blood around as he wiped off his face.

"Tell me." He spoke softly instead. Sam swallowed hard, but didn't respond. Dean frowned, probably realizing that he wasn't about to get what he wanted from them and moved to the exit, Castiel blocking his path.

"Dean-" The angel started but was cut off as Dean let out an animal like sound and pounced, growling viciously. Castiel hissed in pain, rolling to avoid Dean's blows and Sam could see him fighting off the impulse not to use his powers. "Get…Off…" He gasped painfully and tapping into his reserved strength, threw the Winchester off of him.

"Sammy."

The word was weak, and it sounded scared. Something he hadn't heard from his brother in a long, long time. Had the blow somehow shaken him back to himself?

"Dean?" He asked, hurrying over as the elder sat up, gasping in pain.

"Sammy… Please." He begged "Please."

"Please what? What's wrong?" Sam asked, gripping his arm. Dean hissed and yanked back, as if his touch somehow burned him and stared up from the ground, breathing heavily.

"I _need_ it." He mumbled and Sam felt his heart sink. Maybe this wasn't his Dean after all. The monster or whatever was possessing him just knew how to play a very cruel game. "Sammy, _please_."

"Shut up."

"Why won't you help me!?" He asked accusingly and Sam stepped back, looking for something to pin him down whenever he attacked. "You never could help me." He added, though this time his voice sounded a lot less like his brother.

"What's what supposed to mean?" Sam glowered back, grabbing another chain behind him.

"You couldn't save me." He laughed "Not from Hell. Not from Purgatory. Not from the demons or angels. Hell, not even from _myself_." He added, standing up fully and circling around like some kind of animal. "You think you're helping me here? Keeping the blade from me? Well here's a news flash for you: You might as well be the one pulling the trigger. Hell, you're the one who's torturing me. You can't just let me have this, can you? Always looking for a way to screw things up even more." He laughed "That's my Sammy. Making such a big mess out of things that should be so damn simple." He told him and Sam clenched his jaw, forcing himself to not look away.

"You don't mean that. It's like Cain said. You're just trying to get under my skin."

"By telling you the _truth_. Isn't that what you said? Secrets destroy relationships? Well here's one thing you never seemed to figure out. The truth does too."

"This isn't the truth."

"Ah, sure it is." Dean smirked. He stopped directly in front of Sam, his hands twitching and face searching. "Haven't you heard? Truth hurts. You sure you want to hear it?"

"Dean. Knock it off." Sam gritted and looked helplessly at Cas who was watching impassively from the doorway.

"I'll take that as a no?" He frowned "Don't want to hear how you're not perfect? My bad." He shrugged and Sam closed his eyes, trying to calm down. He would _not_ lash out. He wouldn't retaliate. Whatever he said probably wouldn't even bother Dean anyways.

"If you remember this when you calm down… Do you even know how bad you're going to feel?" He said instead, his hand wrapping around another chain and glancing at Castiel, who was moving slowly behind his brother.

"How I'm going to _feel_?" He asked incredulously "Are you kidding me? If I remember this." He laughed "Oh trust me, I'm going to feel like the lowest scum of the Earth possible. Nothing I haven't felt before though. And you know what? I can carry on being miserable and that won't change a damn thing, so your point is kind of irrelevant there. Now, what _is_ relevant is you giving me my weapon. Because if not, I won't hesitate to rip your hands off and shove them down your throat."

Sam had never considered his brother scary before. Not to him at least. Sure, he had a bit of a temper and Sam was pretty positive he didn't make monsters feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but never before had he been on _end_ of one of Dean's killing sprees. In actuality, it was pretty terrifying.

"Yeah? Well I have some bad news. You are never going to get that blade back. Over my dead body." Sam spat back and Dean tilted his head, seemingly considering these words carefully before a slow smile spread over bloody teeth.

"If that's the way you prefer it." He laughed and lunged, Sam barely getting out of the way as he threw his chain out, catching it around his arm and jerking it back hard. Castiel was ready, practically corralling him into the dungeon like some kind of animal. Moving fast to avoid him running back out, Sam slammed the door shut, wincing at the bang and horrified scream.

"You okay?" He asked Cas, who was touching a bloody side of his face.

"Fine." He grumbled back and glared at the door, as if it was personally responsible for this. "Are you?"

"Peachy." Sam muttered, stepping back.

"His words. They bother you." The angel frowned "You know your brother cares very much for you."

"Thin line between love and hate." Sam sighed "And it isn't as though I haven't done a few things to cross it from time to time."

"It is as Cain said. Anger is all that he is now. His words mean nothing and actions are just as insincere. Do not judge him or yourself based upon them."

"Yeah. Sure." Sam told him softly. He couldn't help but feel that even if it was anger, there had to be some truth to them. It was still Dean's mind after all, right? Perhaps Cas felt this because he stepped a bit closer to Sam, and looked him straight in the eye.

"Try speaking to him when he is in his right mind. I can assure you the result will be different."

The yelling from the dungeons begged to differ.

"Come on." Sam sighed "We need to get him to stay locked up."

* * *

Dean didn't remember drinking last night, but _damn_ if he wasn't hung over.

Groaning, he blinked slowly, trying to ease the pain in his pounding head. Apparently he had drank so much he couldn't even remember what _happened_ last night. When did he even… Ugh, never mind.

Moving his hand, he tried to wipe his face but was greeted with a jolt a pulse of pain radiating throughout his wrist. What the…?

Where was he?

Tensing, Dean looked around the black, vast space around him. Chains were covering almost his entire body, some broken at the floor by his feet. Within the dim light he could see he was covered with blood, and there was a small sliver of yellow that was probably the exit to wherever the Hell he was.

Maybe he hadn't been drinking then… Drugged perhaps? Knocked out? He strained to remember, but nothing came clear. He had no idea who had done this to him or why, but he also knew he had to get out of here before they came back. Where was Sam? Dean felt his stomach knot slightly at the idea these people could have gotten his brother too, but tried to push it away. Sam could take care of himself. He was fine.

Chains. Sighing, he felt around for some kind of lock, but there was nothing. Giving a jerk to see how loose they were he froze at the sound of a creak and snap, the metal falling to the ground. Uh… Did he just break that?

"Son of a bitch." He muttered "You guys suck at kidnapping." Curious, he found the one around his torso and chest and gave it an experimental tug. The same noise came again and it clattered to the ground. Making a sound of approval, Dean finished the task, searching the ground for something to defend himself once he was done. He had no phone to call Sam, and still not a clue of where he was or where to look to find his brother.

"Dean?"

Jolting, Dean looked up and stared, eyes wide as his brother stood looking at him apprehensively.

"Sam?" He gaped "How… How did you find me? Did they get you too?" He asked "What _happened_?" He demanded, scrambling up and looking around now the light was shed more clearly across the room.

"Who got you?" Sam asked and Dean took a moment to frown at how clean he looked in comparison to him. What did he…? How…? Crinkling his eyebrows, Dean stood up, suddenly feeling even more confusion as he glanced over Sam's shoulders.

"Are we… Are we at the bunker?" He asked and Sam licked his lips, looking down at the ground as an answer. "Why… Why am I tied up?" Nothing.

Giving a small laugh at how ridiculous this question was going to be, Dean smiled.

"You didn't…You know. Put me here, did you?" He asked and felt his muscles weakened at the expression that crossed over his brother's face.

"We had to."

The blade. God, he did something. Feeling the blood drain from his face he looked down at his shirt, which was covered in a sticky red and hoped to go it was his own.

"Sam. I… I didn't… I didn't hurt anyone? I can't remember." He said, hearing his own panic creep into his tone. "Why can't I remember anything!?"

"Hey. Whoa." Sam said, grabbing his shirt as he tried to move past him "Where are you going?"

"Why shouldn't I go out there?" Dean demanded "What's out there?"

"Nothing. Take it easy." Sam told him and Dean swallowed, trying desperately to read his face. He hated when his memory was wiped. Hated it. What had happened?

"Is Cain dead?" He asked and Sam nodded "What happened after that?"

"You had another freak out session so we kept you in here till you cooled down." Sam told him stoically and Dean tried not to feel a little hurt at how causally it was said. As if locking up his brother was more of an inconvenience than anything.

"And the blood?" He demanded, gesturing to his shirt. "Is it mine?"

"Some of it is. Some of it is Cain's." Sam answered hesitantly "Dean." He added when he tried to jerk away again.

"Anyone else's?"

"Can we talk about this later?" Sam asked and Dean's eyes widened, pushing past him towards the stairs, his hands knotting themselves in his hair. "Dean!"

"What. Did. I. Do?" He grounded out, looking over the room carefully. Furniture was everywhere and some blood on the walls, along with holes, but no bodies. "Tell me the truth Sam!"

"Not until you calm down." Came the clipped response "Truth hurts."

Dean stared at him, not understanding what that meant or why Sam immediately seemed to regret saying it. Feeling his frustration rise, he took a breath. He didn't want to snap and say something he'd regret.

"I'm… Going to get cleaned up." He finally said quietly, and walked off out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

There were four things in life that Dean Winchester simply could not stand to any extent: Witches, mixed and matched justice, Oreos with yellow filling, and an unhappy brother.

With that in mind, it seemed that the only reason for Dean's sour mood at the moment where they weren't on a case and eating respectable Oreos with the correct colored center, was Sam.

Dean hadn't had the slightest clue what was bothering his brother so much, but let it be known it wasn't from the lack of trying. He had asked mercilessly why the younger man was so out of it the last couple of days, with only a shrug or roll of eyes as a response. The computer searches and discreet glances at his phone had no results either. _Why_ was Sam so upset?

If anything, Dean felt he should be the one who was freaking out. Sam didn't wake up chained and covered in blood with no recollection of how he managed to get himself in that situation. The idea that his brother had endure worse than that torment made Dean's skin crawl. What did Dean do with that blade?

Ever since he had fallen asleep after that day he killed Cain, Dean had been suffering from a variety of nightmares and a few panic attacks that he had no idea how they were triggered. He could just be sitting there and suddenly it was like someone had put a plastic bag over his head, his muscles screaming from lack of oxygen and mind fluttering in and out of consciousness, screaming high pitched and shrill burning in his ears.

Dean had hoped Sam hadn't noticed. Whenever he felt them coming on, he had known enough to retreat to his room where he could hopefully suffer in peace. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no escaping the angel, who even with his lack of wings, somehow managed to sneak up on him whenever he visited.

"Perhaps you should try not being upset." Was the glorious piece of advice the angel had offered. Dean asked him not to tell Sam. Whether he did or not, was unknown to the elder Winchester, though he doubted Castiel would.

"So." Dean said, dipping his Oreo in milk and strategically dissecting it so that he had the drink all over his hands as he licked the creamy middle. "Any word on Metatron?" He asked and Sam took a moment to wrinkle his nose at his brother's eating habits before shaking his head.

"I guess he's laying low." Sam said, clicking on his computer thoughtfully "I wonder if maybe a spell could track him…"

"Yeah." Dean agreed, sitting up eagerly "We could try it-"

"Once Cas is ready." Sam interrupted him and Dean fell back into his seat with pursed lips. Dean had been happy for Castiel when he decided to lead the remaining rebel angels against the new self-proclaimed God. He had not been as pleased when he found out he had to wait for Castiel to train them before they went after the dick.

"Okay. As lovely as that sounds, I still don't get why we have to wait for Team Heaven to gear up."

"Did you see him Dean?" Sam asked incredulously with that look Dean always hated. It was the one where he kind of narrowed his eyes and put his head forward in the most sarcastic way possible. As if questioning if Dean was really _that_ stupid or if he just hit his head really hard. "The guy blew out holy fire. Even with Cas and the other angels that might be enough."

There were several things Dean wanted to say to that, but he managed to keep his mouth shut for the moment. Lately Dean had been… Experimenting he supposed he could call it.

Dean didn't need anyone to tell him he was heading down a bad road. One that led to problems for him in the future and ones that won't be solved with pretty bows… But he also knew if what was happening to him was actually happening… He could take full advantage of the situation, starting with Metatron.

He couldn't say that though. Not with Sam being so… Confusing lately. Instead he went for the second hardest thing he could suggest.

"I know a few others who are willing to help." He started quietly and Sam cast him a wary look.

"Hunters?" He asked and Dean shook his head, shifting slightly in his seat.

"Not…Exactly." He admitted and looked at him hesitantly before forcing himself to meet Sam's critical eyes. "I… Met some demons." He said slowly "Who would be willing to help."

"Demons?" Sam asked and the accusation in his voice was clear enough "Do you-? How many times are we going to-?" He spluttered out, and Dean felt his defenses rising quickly.

"I'm not saying to trust them!" He spat back "I'm just saying we could use them to overthrow Metatron. They don't want him here either." He reasoned, and tried not hear Sam's younger voice saying something similar about Ruby.

"And how do you know they weren't turn on us?" Sam scoffed and Dean bit his lip. This was the tricky part. He didn't want to lie, but there was no way Sam wasn't about to pull a gun on him if he admitted the truth. He should be pulling a gun on himself.

"They… Kind of… Come to me." He finally bit out and Sam gave him a questioning glance. Whether it was towards what he just said or his brother's sanity was unclear. Sighing, Dean tugged on his sleeve, pausing when Sam winced at the sight of the mark boring his arm. It was still that angry red- welted and burnt into his skin- but the edges had turned into a nasty black that almost hummed with energy. Dean was pretty sure it was due to him having a longer interaction with the First Blade, but knew enough not to say it out loud.

"I press my arm." He said, demonstrating by digging his Oreo stained thumb into the raised flesh and suddenly his whole arm brightened "And they talk to me." He said cautiously, watching Sam's scarily blank face. "Well… Kind of. They don't really talk to me. It is kind of like I have them all under mind control or something. They ask me what I want all monotone and I just ask them questions and they answer. No jokes or anything. Just this really creepy straight answer thing." He rushed out and as if on cue, a zombie like voice spoke in his head.

_Yes?_ It asked and Dean stayed quiet, waiting for a response from Sam. When he got none, he turned his attention momentarily to the thing inside of his head.

_What's your name?_ He asked back and instantly there was a response.

_Alex_ It said without a single trace of emotion or scorn. Dean nodded to himself.

_If I asked you to fight someone…What would you say?_

_Who?_ Alex asked without hesitation and Dean smiled slightly.

_Metatron?_

_Of course. _Alex told him and Dean thanked it, as strange as it was to thank a demon. He supposed it was easier to hate them when they weren't being so…Polite and not sassy.

"You…" Sam started slowly "Just decided not to tell me about this?" He asked, tinges of anger coloring the tone. "Oh, just talking to demons in your head. No big deal, right?" He asked coldly and glared at the table.

"I just found out." He told him "Besides, how did I know you weren't going to shoot me?"

"Are you saying that someone should?" Sam snapped at him and Dean stared, swallowing the amount of physical pain that one question seemed to cause him.

"I guess that's up to you to decide." He said quietly "All I know is that we're running out of options to fight this war. For whatever reason, you're blocking me at every turn. I can take Metatron with the blade. You know it. I know it. Cas knows it. Yet, the blade is still hidden from me and-"

"Do you _like_ the idea of killing people?" Sam asked him with a glare "Because with that thing, you lost control."

"Well maybe if you just let me practice with it I can learn to fix that!"

"_Practice with it_!?" Sam yelled "Are you kidding me? It is literally made up of anger!"

"Then send me to anger management!" Dean told him sarcastically "Look, I'm asking you this because we're working together. If you're really serious about waiting around then I'm out. I can do this myself." He said, standing up and Sam quickly stood up and grabbed his bicep as he turned away.

"And how are you going to do that?" He asked dangerously "You don't have the blade. You're not getting the blade and if you think that a bunch of demons are just going to help you out then-"

"Christ Sam!" Dean hissed, ripping his arm away "I don't get it! Either you're freaking out about me being alive and not giving a damn about monsters or the other way around! Cut me some slack here and just let me decide for once!"

"What's that supposed to mean!?" Sam yelled back at him "Don't act like you ever take in your life into account because of me! You've sacrificed yourself a hundred times when I didn't want you to!"

"Well the last couple months you were fine with it and suddenly you're flipping on me!?"

"I never _wanted _you dead. I said I would let you die."

"Thanks. That clears everything up." Dean scoffed at him "Well how about this? I'm going to pack a bag and leave. I won't come back. Good as dead, right? So let me die." He snapped and before he could turn around again, felt himself being slammed hard into the wall behind him.

"Shut. Up. How many times are you going to hold that over me!?" Sam growled and Dean, feeling the anger welling up again shoved back, sending Sam almost toppling over the oak table.

"Hold that over you? I never mentioned that! I've been keeping my mouth shut!" He hissed and Sam let out laugh that echoed painfully around the empty bunker.

"Yeah. Right. You haven't been reaming me out about what a terrible person I am or how much you hate me!"

"Hate you!?" Dean yelled back "What the _Hell_ are you talking about? At what point in my life have I ever said I _hated_ you? Damn it Sam, If I hate you why would I bother trying to keep you alive? Or drag you out of Hell? Or do half the things I do?!" He demanded and Sam rolled his eye, face red from yelling.

"Because you have to. That's how Dad trained you right? Keep me alive. That's the only thing that ever mattered!"

"And?" Dean asked, suddenly feeling drained "Yeah. That's basically how it went down. My job was to keep you breathing. That was the only thing that mattered to Dad. That's the thing he told me again and again and _again_ to do. And yeah, that's still built into me. But you know what? I was also the first one to fight for you when it came to you wanting to go college, joining all the clubs and teams, doing all that stuff when you were a kid. Hell, I was the one who snuck you into the movies and saved up my allowance all year so you could have something to open on your birthday. I didn't do that to keep you alive Sam. I just wanted to see you happy. Now tell me how do you even begin to get hate from any of that?" Dean demanded, though at this point, all he wanted to do was sit down from exhaustion. He was tired. So tired it was nearly impossible to keep his body from sinking down into the nice, warm ground. It was almost as if all of his feelings were slipping away into something much more numb...

Sam went quiet. He was watching his brother with a mixture of anger, confusion, guilt, and betrayal that all seemed to wind up in a nice little blanket. Sam knew he couldn't-_shouldn't_ hold Dean responsible for what he said while under the blade's influence… But he did.

He just wished Dean would _remember_. So that he could explain it to him. Sam couldn't _change_ the past. How could he still hold it over him? Did he not think he regretted it? That he wasn't sorry? People had…

Oh.

Sam swallowed and looked down, his stomach clenching. He had already known this, but it seemed different when situation was right in front of him.

"Dean…You can't use the blade." He said quietly, ignoring everything else. He glanced up to meet a frustrated glance and when his brother turned away to leave, he called out again. "You killed three people." He said and there was a pause.

"What?" Dean asked slowly, his voice strangely blank.

"We couldn't stop you in time… We tried…" Sam trailed off and Dean kept staring, as if not comprehending exactly what the younger man was saying.

"You said that I didn't hurt anyone." He nearly whispered and Sam just stared back, not bothering to justify it with an answer. Sam waited for the anger. The accusation of having lied to him when Sam had recently disowned him for lying… Well, lying and allowing him to be possessed.

They didn't come though, only leaving a strangely empty look on the elder's face. Like nothing else in life really made sense anymore.

"Dean." Sam started "Um… There were…Other things too. That you…Said."

He felt so childish. Crying over something his brother said to him. He should be above that… But he wasn't. Sam knew that while he'd deny it to the end of the Earth, his brother's opinion of him still mattered to a certain extent.

"To you." Dean said, not looking surprised "I'm guessing they weren't nice." He sighed and sank into a chair, staring carefully at the wall in front of him. "I'm sorry." He stated, though it sounded more dazed than anything. It honestly didn't make Sam feel any better.

"I think something is wrong with me." Dean suddenly told him bluntly. Sam, unsure of how to respond to that in any way supportive simply gaped in confusion. "I don't care." He said and Sam frowned.

"What?"

"I…Don't care." He said and wrinkled his forehead in confusion, as if the thought of this all seemed puzzling. "I'm surprised I guess, but I really don't give a damn that I killed those people… I don't care that I hurt you. I don't even care that I normally wouldn't feel that way. This should be devastating me…Shouldn't it? But it isn't. I just want the blade. I just want to kill Metatron."

Weren't they just having a conversation about how Dean wanted him to be happy five minutes ago? His brother had been known to have some mood swings throughout his life, but this was strange even for him. Within the past few seconds it was almost as if he had went from high emotional turmoil to zapped of everything.

"You don't care." Sam repeated and Dean looked at him as if seeing him for the first time.

"Sometimes I do… But then it is almost like it is too much and then I don't… Then I do again." He shook his head, looking overcome with this revelation. "I don't really understand it…" He trailed off and looked at Sam imploringly "Are you going to kill me?" He asked, sounding as though they were talking about the weather. His voice didn't sound bothered at all by the prospect of his brother killing him. In fact, it was almost as if… He was kind of excited by it.

"No." Sam answered, trying not to show how shaken he was "I'm sure that this… This will pass or something." He told him with a look around the room "We can probably research and find-"

"Nothing?" Dean replied simply "I've looked. There's nothing. Am I still leaving or are we going to go after Metatron now?"

Stop. Stop. Stop. Sam didn't know what to do. He couldn't decide whether or cry or scream or both. What was he supposed to do? Who was he supposed to ask about this? Cain was dead. Crowley maybe? Sam felt sick at the idea of going to that damn demon for help, but at this point it seemed like the only solution.

"Sure. Soon. I just need a couple days to-"

"Tomorrow." Dean interrupted and Sam swallowed again. He really didn't want to have to kill his brother because of this stupid mark.

_Are you sure you're the one who is going to be doing the killing?_ A voice whispered in his head and Sam clenched his teeth before nodding in agreement.

* * *

Crowley did not look happy to see him.

At all.

Which was strange because he had never seen the pain in the ass unhappy to see anyone before. The guy was a walking ball of aggravating, sadistic happiness.

"Moose." He greeted stiffly and looked over his shoulder "What do you want? I don't _appreciate_ being summoned like a common dog."

"I thought you'd be flattered." Sam commented "I like dogs." Then with a small smile he cocked his head. "It almost seems fitting. You call me Moose. I call you bitch. It all works out."

"Have you only come to ruffle my feathers? I am the King of Hell. I have priorities."

"Yeah, shouldn't you be in a better mood because of that?" Sam asked, circling dangerously around the demon. It was the dead of the night, perhaps maybe even one in the morning by now and Sam had mere hours to figure out what was wrong with his brother. Crowley stood against a tree of the forest, watching him coldly as animals shuffled away throughout the wooded area, obviously sensing the demon's presence.

"I thought my competition was gone." He said in a monotone voice. Sam didn't bother to remind him that Abbadon was dead and went straight for pulling out Ruby's knife. Crowley glanced at it, but didn't flinch away or look at all distressed.

"You were with my brother when he got the Mark of Cain. What's happening to him?" He asked and a scowl came clearer on the king's face.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me!" Sam growled and slammed him hard into the trunk of the tree. Crowley, again, was strangely submissive. "You wanted him to get that thing. Why?"

"To kill Abbadon obviously." He growled back and pushed Sam away "The mark had never been _distributed_ before. Cain had been thought to be dead for centuries- _millenias_ now. How the bloody Hell am I supposed to know everything about that damn blade? If I knew then what I know now I wouldn't have even bothered." He added in "Abbadon could have been brought down a different way…But this… This is entirely different."

"What is?" Sam asked carefully, unsure of what was going on. Crowley didn't respond at first, simply looking pathetically at the trees out in the distance.

"Do you know where souls go after they've been destroyed Moose?" Crowley suddenly asked and Sam gave him an odd look.

"What do you mean?" He asked impatiently. He didn't have time for the demon to get philosophical now.

"When you stab an angel or a demon… Where do they go? Not purgatory. That is only for monsters. Not Hell or Heaven. They're just…Gone. It is strange to know what happens after death than to realize you don't."

"Are you…High on blood or something?" Sam frowned, backing away slightly. Crowley looked at him, almost with… Pity. An emotion that certainly wouldn't belong on a demon.

"No." He murmured "I was just thinking about how many souls I've seen change. How many I've seen just disappear. Most at your hand. I'm sorry about your brother Sam."

Then, as if he hadn't contradicted his own personality as well as everything demons stood for, he disappeared into the blackness.

* * *

**So... Yeah, I have a reason for such an OOC Crowley, I promise! Next chapter XP**


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